A Dark Dark World
by PromisedRainbow
Summary: The BAU is investigating a case where the UNSUB tortures his victim to the point that he fears no death. After three bodies surfaced, the police need their help. But somehow, this case connects to the disappearance of Will Lamontagne three years ago. This is an alternative ending to 'Run'. Full team included.
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N) Hey guys, long time no see. I've been wanting to write this story for a while now and have finally gotten to finish the first chapter. This takes place after 'Run', and is an alternative ending, which is why it doesn't match the episode. I hope you enjoy!**

"The wise have eyes in their heads, while the fool walks in the darkness; but I came to realize that the same fate overtakes them both. Then I said to myself, 'The fate of the fool will overtake me also. What then do I gain by being wise?' I said to myself, 'This too is meaningless.' For the wise, like the fool, will not be long remembered; the days have already come when both have been forgotten.

Like the fool, the wise too must die."

Ecclesiastes 2:13-16

What is the meaning of life? We are born, live, get a job and family, only to die, shrivel up in a pit in the ground while people talk about how amazing you were. Soon, the only remains of you is a corps, being slowly eaten away by maggots.

This is all of our fates. Nothing can change this, no matter your accomplishments, or how 'unfair' it is. You will only be known by family and friends, then when they die off, you will be known as a grandparent who fed cookies to kids, and then as the words embedded in a slab of stone. Admit it, you won't be remembered, no matter how famous. Not for that time where you wrote a book, or for helping a kid in the hall. Not for your amazing taste of music, or your thoughts in your head.

This is our destiny.

We like to think that people will think about us every day, but we're really just a small part of their life. Sure, they'll remember you every once and awhile, but sooner or later people will want them to forget about you, move on with life. And they will.

Nobody knows you. Not truly. They don't understand why you talk to yourself, or how empathetic you really are, yet can't cry for the death of a man. People will judge you by looks, your outfits, and how you speak. We are all hiding in our own shells, no matter how much you talk.

Is this how it is? Our lives are just souls passing through this time? Or maybe there is an afterlife, and our future is in an unwilling cycle of life, life, and more life, for all and all eternity. How unimaginable that is. Living forever in the most beautiful place.

These are all questions to be asked but never answered.

Everything is meaningless. The verse is true. What is our goal here? To be happy, get a job, family, have the best time ever, but what's the point? All of this, the happiness and experiences in life, is meaningless. You're going to die someday. One day, you will stop doing your hobbies, eating, talking, experiencing, and all the pleasures of life will disappear. You won't be in a dark, cold room. You will cease to exist. You will be stripped of your consciousness. You will be nothing.

What will you do with this news? Maybe nothing. Move on with life, is that right? But I'm not doing nothing. I'm preparing people for the worst to come.

 _3 Years Ago…_

"Come on Izzy. Baby, let's just kill him," Matthew whispered eagerly, gently rubbing her shoulders.

"No!" Izzy snapped. "We're broke, Matthew, can't you see that? Chris put the money from the last hit hidden, and I haven't got the location!" She shrugged the hand away and continued to pace across the alley. Matthew groaned and ran his hand through his hair.

"Iz, why didn't you tell me this before? We could've gotten the place before you freakin' shot him!"

Izzy stopped and glared at him. "I didn't know, ok?! I just contacted our holder to make a transfer," she said, waving out her phone, "but he said that the idiot moved the money somewhere else." She leaned against the building in defeat. "I tried the other's, too. They all said the same thing."

"When did he transfer it?"

"Just before the robbery." She tapped her toe, agitated. "He must have known about us, Chris. Probably was gonna make a run for it." Matthew's eyebrow twitched up. He's never seen Izzy this agitated before. Even when times were hard, and he didn't think that there was a way out, she was always the one who kept her cool. But now she was restless and worried.

 _Well, we're screwed._

"What about from Moscow?" he asked. Izzy only shook her head. "Paris?" Still no. "Come on, baby. China?" Another no. "Dang. He's good."

"This isn't the time to joke around, Matthew! All of our savings. All of them! Just gone."

And so, her quest to get the Guinness World Record for the most pacing had continued.

"500, and it's a done deal." Izzy clenched her jaw. "Come on, can't go any lower, Sam. 500, take it or leave it." Another pause. Matthew could hear the caller on the phone starting to get frustrated. "No, of course, he's not-" she stopped abruptly, listening. "Yes, I know that you have very strict regulations, but this guy's perfect, I'm serious." More listening. "You've seen the news the past few days? The detective that went into the bank for the hostages? Yeah, that's him."

"So, what's the plan, Iz?" Matthew asks, watching their captive in the corner.

"I got Sam to make a deal. 500,000 for Will. He's local, so we don't have to smuggle around the roadblocks."

"Who's this Sam… never mind. The only important thing is that's enough to pay Camble to get us out of here. Remember Camble, back in Malaysia?" Matthew asked. Izzy just nodded.

The two were hiding out in a crusty van in an abandoned alley, the smell of rotten food seeping through the walls. Abandoned cloth linings hung high above, crumples of paper were scattered on the ground. And, just to push their luck, once and awhile, a black cat crossed their path.

The scene couldn't be more cliqued.

They were deep in the winding maze of buildings, and the farthest they could get away from the main road. Izzy and Matthew were surrounded by abandoned buildings, where not even the criminals would venture to. No people, no police, no getting caught. It was just Downs, Rogers, and the lucky black cat. But there was someone else…

Police detective William Lamontagne Jr. of the D.C. Metropolitan Police Department was reported captured by the duo Matthew and Izzy during the Face Card heist at the Colonial Liberty Bank. No body was recovered after the bomb, and none around the bank, leading the BAU to believe that Will was still with Izzy Rogers and Matthew Downs.

Lamontagne sat in the corner of the van, blindfolded, gagged, and hands and feet bound. He'd been there for the last few hours, listening as the two made their arrangements to get out of their mess. It had only been half a day since the robbery. His shoulder throbbed from the wound, and his back ached from sitting there for hours with minimal movement.

Will listened closely to Izzy and Matthew. He straightened up when he heard that he was being sold to a person named Sam. His heart jumped in his chest and he swallowed. _Human trafficking?_ He thought. A shiver ran through him. Will imagined being forced to work as a slave, or worse… another shiver ran down his back. _What will I become?…_

He went back to that morning. His little Henry had just come out of the bath, smelling like the baby shampoo. His blonde hair was soaked, and water dripped all over the floor as JJ ran after him with a towel. "Henry, I need to dry your hair!" she yelled. Will laughed, and together, they played 'Catch Henry' until they cornered him and finally dried his hair.

William had to leave. He was about to run out the gate when Jennifer shouted at him. He turned back and was engulfed in her hug and kiss. "See ya later!" she said as he closed the gate and headed over to his partner's car. Will smiled and gave Henry a little wave. He left, fully certain that he would return.

The argument in the front of the van suddenly snapped Will back to reality. _I'll get back_ , he promised. _I have to._

 _Back at the Colonial Liberty Bank…_

The smell of smoke still stained the air. Police chatter continued around them, and reporters were hurriedly announcing about the latest report about the robbery. Firefighters were rushing into the burnt down bank to search for survivors. The sirens of ambulance swarmed around her ears. But all JJ could see was the wallet that she found on the ground near the back exit of Colonial Liberty Bank. The leather was scratched, droplets of blood on it. JJ stared at it, careful not to smear any of it.

"JJ?" Her head shot up. The team was looking at her. "Are you alright?" Hotch asks. She nods, but Hotch hesitated before going on. "Morgan, you and Reid go back to the west side. That's where their car was last seen. Keep in touch everyone." Everyone dispersed, but JJ still sat there, staring at the wallet. _He'll get back,_ she reassured herself. _He has to._

 **(A/N) Reviews are welcome!**


	2. Chapter 2

**(A/N): Ugh, so sorry for the long wait! It's been really busy lately. This chapter is a bit slow, but I promise that I'll get to the action. Enjoy!**

 **(sorry I didn't do this in the first chapter) Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds**

 _Will envied the darkness. Warmth engulfed him, and his mind was nothing. The swarming pain ceased, and his bodily aches were gone. His conscience drifted, wandering around, exploring this new territory that he hadn't been in for what seemed like a very long time. Memories slipped by as he caught snippets of them, wisps of smoke leading to the next. After what seemed like a dozen memories, he found himself in his dining room. Warm candle light surrounded him, and laughter filled the air. The fragrance of roasted chicken, cinnamon, and beer swarmed around them. His father was there, giving a half-drunken toast for his near retirement. Will, half excited and half astonished, stared at his dad. Never did he think he'd see him in person. But he isn't here, Will reminded himself. This is just a dream. But dream or not, he smiled. He ran to his dad and gave him a hug. "Wow there Jr., what's all the fuss about?" his dad slurred._

 _But as the scene started to dim. The warmth disappeared. The laughter carried away, getting softer. The memory drew itself farther and farther, bringing in a new darkness. The warmth was there, but it was empty. He felt no pain, yet he had never been more hurt._

 _He expected another one to come by, another pleasant memory to take away the sorrow. But none came. He waited, coldness shivering inside him, even though it wasn't cold. Will desperately clung to the memory, trying to run after it, but he found himself lost. The darkness surrounded him. Will turned and turned. He kept on running, panicking, hopelessly searching for something, someone. Half of him expected to see his father again. Maybe JJ and Henry, too. But the other half thought that he was trapped in this hell. He collapsed, cradling his knees to his chest. "Don't leave me," he whispered. "Please, don't leave."_

Will felt a grasp on his shoulder. Someone shook him, and he was about to swat it away when he realized his hands were bound. Panicked, he shot up and opened his eyes, and for a brief moment, he forgot where he was. He blinked, startled that the world was still black from the blindfold. But the memories came rushing in. "Mornin' sunshine," he heard Matthew say. Downs pulled him up, and Will staggered along. "Step down." He did so, finally getting out of the van.

"This is him?" Will heard a gruff voice say. He swallowed. Standing still, he heard the engine of a car running. There were no people, nobody close enough for them to be heard. There was a slight breeze, and no warmth came from the sun, despite them being without shade.

Silence took over them, and a slight tremble went down his back. Slight, soft footsteps traveled around him, and he swallowed. _This is it_ , he thought. _I'm being sold out to the highest bidder, just like a horse. Now I know how they feel._

Awkwardly, he stood there for what seemed like an hour. The newcomer, who Will supposed was Sam, asked questions.

"How old is he?"

"What type of cop?"

"What exactly happened at the robbery?"

"Have his wounds healed?"

"HE'S MARRIED?"

Will felt as though his personal life was being prodded at. What are going to ask next? He thought. What my favorite character from Harry Potter is?

Suddenly he heard a gun cock. Frozen, Will held his breath. _Frick_.

He was about to side step, but Matthew held him still.

Bang.

He flinched. His ear ringing, he cringed at the sound. Then, the gun shot again.

Flinch.

Shoot.

Flinch.

Shoot.

Still.

Shoot.

Still.

 _Why won't you just kill me, dang it._

Will hear Sam's hand drop. "Alright, I'll take him," he said. Will heard a thump on the ground. Izzy bent down and zipped open the bag. Satisfied, she said, "He's all yours."

Still blindfolded and bound, Sam walked Will to his own car. Seating Will to the back seats, Sam got to the front and started to drive out of the alley.

The drive out was silent. Sam said nothing and the radio was off. The silence was deafening. Finally, after about a twenty-minute ride, the car came to a stop.

Getting out the car, Sam took Will's blindfold off. Blinking, he stared at the building in front of him. It was a large barn, with its perimeter fenced. He heard neighs of horses inside, and an occasional bark. Surrounding them were trees. Trees, trees, and more trees.

He looked at Sam. He had wrinkles under his eyes and a sprinkle of white hairs among his black, possibly being in his fifties. His eyes were striking, but were soft, as if they had seen too many things that couldn't be unseen. Sam's flannel and jeans were splattered with mud and hay. Will could have sworn that he'd seen him before. But before he could try to search through his memory for this man, Sam pulled him along.

Holding his gun to Will, Sam guided him into the barn. They entered, and the smell of hay and horses blasted to them. In the stalls to the side of the aisle, two horses stood by, watching them with perked ears. They snorted as Will and Sam passed them, both of them with shining coats and well-groomed manes. The aisles were pushed off all waste, and everything was put in place.

Sam walked them to an extra stall and entered. He swept some of the hay to the side and revealed a locked trapdoor. Putting in the password, the lock clicked open and lead to a staircase. "Go on," Sam urged Will. Cautiously, he stepped down, and Sam followed, putting the hay back in place and closing the door.

The light flicked open, the murky room was lit. The walls were made of brick, surrounding an array of shelves and boxes. Everything would be normal if it weren't for the scarred chair in the center, the cell-like room in the corner, and the ropes hanging on from the ceiling.

Bile built up in his throat when he spotted a dry splatter of blood on the wall. He swallowed, feeling the bitter taste of the cloth gagged to his mouth.

Sam pushed him forward, towards the cell. "In," he said, motioning with his gun. Will entered, and Sam followed, removing his gag. Will sucked in air and tried to compose himself, but before he knew it, a click sounded. He turned and saw Sam lock the door. "You stay here," he said. "And don't move." _Well, there's really not anywhere I can go_ , Will thought. He looked around the rickety cell, searching for a way out in vain. Carefully sitting down on the bed in the corner, Will closed his eyes. _JJ will find you. It's going to be fine._ Suddenly, a set of footsteps came his way. He opened his eyes and saw Sam going toward him, the keys in one hand… and a whip in another.

 **(A/N): Hope you enjoyed. I'll try to get the chapter to you guys sooner! Reviews are always welcome! Errors you saw, things I should do to improve, anything is welcome!**


	3. Chapter 3

**(A/N): Hey ya'll I'm back! It took me a while to get the dates, characters, and information for the story, so apologies that it took so long. You don't know HOW many errors there were in the dates of my outline. If you see any holes in the dates, feel free to tell me.**

 **Also, I don't know how many years a season consists of, but if each is one year, that means they would be around the end of season 10.**

 **Disclaimer: Criminal Minds isn't mine**

 _Present Day…_

"Happy New Year, fellow crime fighters," Garcia said casually as everyone filled in the briefing room, "we've got kittens to save." Morgan raised an eyebrow at her. She gave him that 'I couldn't help it' look, and turned to the screen. "Ok, so this case is relatively nearby, only an hour and a half away, in Markham. There have been three bodies found along the Appalachian trail by hikers." Penelope pressed her remote, and a picture of a body showed up, as well as a headshot of a man. "This is Nathan Carter, a freshman student at Yale,"

"Hey, that was my safety school!" Everyone glanced at Reid, who just shrugged.

Penelope cleared her throat and continued. "And," she raised an eyebrow at her notes. "huh. Major in chem. engineering and minor in economics. Smart kid."

Hotch raised his eyebrows.

"Sorry, sir. Um, let's see, he was last seen on December 20, 2013, and his body was found on December 21 last year in Shenandoah National Park by hikers who must really like walking in the cold." She pressed the remote, and another picture came up.

"Taylor Nelson, twenty-year-old sophomore at Penn State. He was coming back to Virginia to visit family. Taylor went missing on December 20, 2012, last seen at a library, and his body turned up exactly a year afterward, in 2013."

She pressed the remote again. "This is Josh Wilder, nineteen years old, a sophomore at Columbia University. He went missing on December 20, 2011, found, again, about a year later, December 21, 2012." Penelope turned to her coworkers. "All three victims are Caucasian, in their college years, and male. Good students, not the top, but not lowest. COD was a gunshot to the head."

"And they were all abducted on the same date?" Kate interjected.

"Yep."

"His targets are very specific," Hotch said. "Resemblance of a lost love one?"

"Probably. We'd need to look into recent deaths or separations of a Caucasian boy who was in college," Morgan said.

"Hold your horses children, I'm not done yet." Garcia turned back to the screen as another photo came up. "Oliver Harper was reported missing on the same day, just thirteen days ago. Twenty-one years old, junior in the University of Virginia. He was last seen hiking with friends, but when he went to the restroom, he didn't get back."

"We still have a year before the UNSUB kills him," Kate commented.

"But if he finds out we're investigating him, he might kill Oliver before the date to try to make us back off," JJ debated.

Hotch continued to look at the screen. "No, I don't think so. This date is very important to the UNSUB. I don't think that anything would throw him off his MO."

Morgan said, "Even so, we can't take that chance. Who knows what this UNSUB does to them for the year."

Hotch nodded. "Be in the SUVs in twenty, we'll brief then."

As everyone started to get up, Garcia asked hopefully, "Sir, am I coming along?"

Hotch looked at her and gave her what seemed to be a smile. "Yes Garcia, ride along with Morgan." She beamed and hurried to gather her things.

 _In the SUVs..._

"Let's go over victimology," Hotch said over their phones as they were driving.

"Targets are Caucasian college boys," said David.

"The UNSUB doesn't seem to have an interest in their degrees. Creative writing, geology, chemistry engineering, nursing? They're all over the place." Kate said, reading the file.

"There's not a lot of breathing time between victims," Reid commented. "After dumping a body, he goes straight the next. This UNSUB is extremely motivated."

"No traces of the UNSUB are found where the victims were supposedly kidnapped or where they were dumped," JJ said.

"An organized _and_ efficient killer," Morgan mumbled.

JJ looked at the crime scene photos. "That's strange. No restraining marks," she said.

"It's possible that they developed Stockholm," Hotch answered. "The UNSUB could have gotten the victims to sympathize for him and possibly built a relationship so that they didn't have to be restrained."

"Strangely, in an FBI study of 1200 hostages, 92% of them didn't show any symptoms that associated with Stockholm, but-"

"Yes Reid, we know, we know," Derek interjected.

"Sir, the autopsy reports came in," Garcia said from behind Morgan and Reid. "All three victims sustained permanent damage to the cilia, which was probably caused by repeated gunfire at close range. There were some broken bones that didn't heal THAT well, shallow cuts, and-" she shivered, "whip lashes."

"It doesn't seem like the UNSUB wants to cause permanent damage, but more like he wants to afflict fear," David theorized. "If he wanted more pain, than he would have had deeper cuts, maybe even have used electric shock and ice picks."

"And gunshots are to generate fear. Good work Rossi," Hotch said.

"Well then what's the point?" Kate asked. "I would get if this UNSUB were a sadist, he would go off the torment of his victim. But dumping the body with a blanket over him shows remorse, and he would get a much higher fear rate if he used more extreme methods like electrocution, drowning, deeper cuts. None of the UNSUB's MO match sadism."

"The blanket might not be remorse at all," JJ added. "Look at the victim. Hands by their side, blanketed from their neck down, eyes closed. The UNSUB might be trying to convey the image of sleep or death. If he had remorse, he would have probably covered the face too so he wouldn't have to face him."

"We're thirty minutes out, sir," Garcia informed them.

"When we get there, JJ, you and Morgan interview the victim's parents and people they were last seen with. Reid, go over the crime scene photos and geography, try to bring the UNSUB's MO together. Garcia, the first thing you should do is search the area for deceased or separated Caucasian boys, ages seventeen to twenty-four in the past 10 years, and cross-check that with a death or accident on December 20. If you get nothing, spread the age and time span. Kate, stay with her to make some connections. Rossi, you and I are going to the places the victims were last seen and dumped."

 _Three Years Ago- In the Barn..._

The sound of my own screams were ingrained into my brain, the wretched sound playing over and over while I curled in the corner of the cell. Blood seeped along my scarred back, dripping to the ground. The pain spread along my back, going by the cuts that were embedded into my skin.

As it was playing over and over in my head, the scene became more and more agitating. I remembered the feeling of the leather slamming on my back, gasps escaping my mouth. I remembered the screaming, the coughing, the groans of pain. I remembered when Sam shouted angrily at me when I pleaded for him to stop. His words became a jumble to me. All I could understand was him saying that he expected more of me.

What was I expected of? To not feel the pain? To not try to make him stop? Did he think that I was stronger? Because I wasn't. Never was, never will be. The pain was too excruciating, too numbing. No one could go through something without screaming for mercy. But he kept on shouting, hitting, stomping harder, and _harder_ , and _HARDER_...

 _How much longer will I need to go through this?_ I thought. _How much longer until he gets so frustrated that he'll kill me?_

I was supposed to have hope. Hope that JJ would come storming in and rescue me, that I would be found somehow. Hope that somehow, they would find clues that led them to the barn in the middle of nowhere.

Somehow, the hope I had before had vanished.

But for a second, it came back, when I heard a whisper from across the room. "Hello?"

 **(A/N): The profiling part was a bit rushed, I know. I was really nervous to post this chapter specifically because of that. If you have any comments or corrections, feel free to tell me!**


	4. Chapter 4

**(A/N): Hello there! Thanks to anyone who favorited (that's... not a word), followed and reviewed. It means a lot to me!**

 **In the last chapter, I wrote a few paragraphs at the end that were a bit out of my writing style, more dark and descriptive, and I'm not sure how to follow up to that...**

 **I had a harder time writing this since I was on a 'writing high' for the last chapter, and now it's on a low. This chapter isn't as well written as I wanted it to be, so apologies if it feels a bit weird.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds... unfortunately**

 _Three years ago- In the Barn..._

"Hello?" My head jerked up when I heard the whisper. "Is anyone there?" I crawled to the front of the cell.

"Who's there?" I croaked out. I heard shuffling coming from the shadows across the room. I squinted, trying to see, but the 'basement' was too dark.

"Did Sam bring you here?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Yeah," I sighed. "How long have you been here?"

"A few months," she said plainly. I breathed in, shuddering. She heard me. "Don't worry, I'm not hurt. Sam hasn't done anything to me for a long time," she said, her voice dreamy as if she were going back to her first days.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She didn't answer.

"How many more of us are there?" I finally said, breaking the silence.

"There's Josh," she answered vaguely. "He's a real good poet. He's supposed to be in the room you're in. I guess Sam took him to the shed."

"The shed?"

"The place where Sam puts his stuff." Suddenly, a gun fired. I jolted up, a flare of pain going through my back. But I ignored it, eye's wide. "In fact, that's Sam with him right now."

"What was that? D-Did he kill him?" I stuttered.

"No," she said as though that were a regular thing. "Sam never kills them until the end of the year."

"When?" I asked questionably. _Something's not right here_ , I thought.

"December the twentieth."

 _Present-Markham Police Department..._

JJ and Morgan were the first to arrive. The loud hum of busy police greeted them, as well as the one who was in charge of the case.

Detective Nancy Barrow: tall, lean, with vibrant copper hair tied into a bun. Moved quickly through the ranks, going from patrol to detective in two years. Top in the academy, graduated just out of high school.

 _Thank you Penelope for your profiles_ , Derek thought, smiling.

Holding herself high, Detective Barrow walked up to the two federal agents, a grim smile on her face. "Good morning, agents," she greeted.

"Detective Barrow, this is SSA Jennifer Jareau and I'm SSA Derek Morgan. We're here to interview the victim's family?" Morgan said.

"Of course, Nathan Carter and Taylor Nelson's parents are in already. Oliver Harper and Josh Wilder's are flying in. They should be here within the day."

"Thank you, detective," JJ said, and she and Morgan split off toward the rooms of the missing victims.

 _Marcy and Davis Carter's Room..._

The couple sat on the couch, her head on his shoulder, unspoken thoughts flowing between them.

The dim room was silent, the loud cries and angry tears vanished. Just an hour ago, there were screams of anguish, and a shatter of glass when Marcy pushed a lamp. But all of this has passed, leaving behind a hushed silence between the two. They sat in the corner of the couch, snuggled together, the wounds that were opened that day being soothed by each other's presence.

In twenty-four hours, they had to identify their own son's body, feel his cold hands, seeing the gashes on his skin, staring at his calm, peaceful face. In twenty-four hours, they found out that their son, their Nathan, was dead.

"Mrs. and Mr. Carter?" they heard. Sitting up, they saw a woman peeking through the door. Davis nodded numbly, letting her come in. The lady sat on the chair across them, a grim smile on her face. "My name is Jennifer Jareau, I'm with the FBI," she said, softly. "I am very sorry for your loss, but I need to ask you some more questions if that's alright."

Marcy sniffed, shaking her head slightly. "We already told everything to the police." She looked down, hiding her tears. "Please, I just want to go home," she choked. Her husband hugged her in closer, rubbing her arm.

"I understand, Mrs. Carter. I couldn't try to imagine what you are going through, but this is important. There's another boy who has gone missing, and we think that he was abducted by the same person who took Nathan." She showed them a picture. "His name is Oliver Harper. Do you recognize him?" They looked at it but shook their head.

JJ sighed. "Ok, what about this." She showed a picture of Josh Wilder. Still no. A picture of Taylor Nelson. Another no.

 _Meeting Room- Markham Police Department..._

Kate arrived seeing a frenzied Garcia rapidly typing on her on the computer alongside her trusty coffee mug. In front of the board was Reid, taping on a map and crime scene photos, along with pictures of the victims. Squinting at it decisively, he said, "Hey Garcia, got anything?"

Garcia huffed frustratingly. "We just got here a minute ago, chill."

"I'm not sure if Reid can 'chill', Garcia," Kate laughed, sitting next to Garcia. "So... You got anything?"

"Ugh!" Garcia groaned. Kate smiled and watched as Penelope continued her search. "Alright. Caucasian, age eighteen to twenty-four, male, blah blah, December 20. Bada bing, bada boom. And... got something. Nineteen-year-old kid diagnosed with leukemia on the twentieth, Mark Hamp-pshhhh... nope. That was only a year ago." She sighed. Her phone rang, and she picked her up. "'ello?" She paused, listening. "Nope, sorry boss, I'll keep looking." She hung up, continuing to type. "Hotch and Rossi are finished at the crime scene. They're coming our way."

Kate got up and walked over to Reid, who was pinning the abduction and dump sights on the map. "There seems to be no geographical similarities between the victims other than that they were all abducted in Markham and dumped along this," he pointed on the map, "trail. The abduction sights are random. Local library, restroom along the trail, empty parking space. Of course, this forms a triangle, but the dump sites aren't aligned to it in any way and I doubt that these would hold any meaning. The UNSUB might be organized, but there doesn't seem to be a meaning to the locations."

"And the victims don't seem to be connected in any way," Kate commented, looking at the pictures on the board. "Different schools, majors, religions, from different states. I got news from Morgan and JJ and they said that Carter's and Nelson's parents didn't recognize the other victims."

The two stared at the board, Reid's mumbles and Penelope's typing echoing in the background.

 **(A/N): Sorry it's a bit short. Review?**


	5. Chapter 5

**(A/N): Hey guys! I'm so so sorry for getting this in late. I didn't mean to update this behind! My muse ran away, and it took a while to find it... Anyway, this profiling is a bit... no, REALLY different than it should be. There, in fact, was no reason to send out a profile, because I was a bit too ambitious about the meaning of the date then I should have, and made it especially easy for the team to find the UNSUB. Apologies about that...**

 **Sorry if this chapter is a bit odd. I kinda had to force myself to write it.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not and will never own Criminal Minds.**

 _Three Years Ago- In the Barn..._

It was another hour until Josh came in.

The boy who was Josh was human, yet wasn't. His eyes were void of emotion, feet dragging along the ground, hands limp by his side. He stared at the wall, yet didn't acknowledge the fact that I was in his cell.

At that time, I knew what we were up against. And it was nothing good.

 _Present day- Markham Police Department..._

"Ooh, ooh, I got something!" Penelope suddenly yelled. Kate and Reid went over, peeking over her shoulder. "Gas station robbery, December 20, 2008. Two witnesses, and one victim. Connor Caspar, eighteen years old, shot in the torso after trying to call 911 when the robber was threatening the cashier with a gun. He bled out before the police arrived."

"Seven years ago," Kate mumbled, looking at the article that came up.

"Yeah. And the victim's father, Samuel Caspar... Oh man."

"What is it?" Reid asked.

Penelope pointed at a screen. "He was with Connor. In fact, he said that his son died in his arms."

"And his wife died just three years before that, March 13," Reid mumbled.

"I think we need to call Hotch," Penelope said.

Meeting Room- Thirty Minutes Later...

"Alright Penelope, what do you have?" Hotch asked, walking into the room, followed shortly by Rossi.

"Samuel Caspar, white, fifty-three years old, widower and father to Connor Caspar, who died on December 20, 2008. His last known address is 1141 Cox Rd-"

"Alright, let's go then," Morgan shot out.

"Hold on, munchkins! Gosh, I'm not done yet!" Garcia interjected. "He hasn't been heard of for four years. His house was foreclosed and sold."

"Well that's just great," Rossi grumbled.

"But do not fear my angels, for Reid has a thought!" Everyone turned to Reid, who was still staring at the map. "Right Reid?"

"Hmm?"

"Got something to share?" JJ asked, raising an eyebrow. He only turned back to the map.

"No, not yet," he simply stated.

Kate collapsed back into her chair. "Out of all the times you don't have an idea..."

 _Three Years Ago- The Barn..._

There was nothing but silence.

Josh got into our cell, hesitating at the door. Sam prodded him, and Josh complied, as if remembering who was in charge.

As he locked the door, Sam stared at me, and for a moment I was scared that he was going to get me too.

I had never been more afraid in my entire life.

It was a strange thought. I almost wanted to someone else to go, for him to skip me. For my life to be spared before the others.

I immediately shut myself up.

After a moment of tension, Sam left, glancing at the girl in the other cell as he exited. I opened my mouth to say something, but closed it. Josh was staring at me, his gaze unbroken. Blood dripped from the sleeve of his dirtied shirt, and his back tense. He examined me for a few more seconds, then turned his head to the bars, his interest disappearing.

I looked at him, wondering if I should try to talk to him. But I couldn't find the right words to start. What could I say? "Oh, hey, I know that you kinda got tortured and stuff, but I was wondering, how long have you been here?".

But I went with the most logical thing.

With my crackled voice, I said, "Hello?" Almost whispering. But he didn't listen. I resisted the urge to clear my throat, and said, "My name's Will." Then, he blinked, turning his head to look at me.

I think it was the accent that got to him.

He stared right into my eyes, blue to brown, horrified to tired. Right then it hit me how young he was. Josh couldn't be any older than 20. But with his dark circles under his eyes and growing stubble, he seemed older.

I was horrified. But I continued on. "Josh, right?" He only continued staring. "Hey..." I said quietly, cautiously touching his shoulder.

He suddenly jerked back, his eyes widening. I pulled my hand back, immediately regretting the decision. We sat there, looking at each other, both of us tense and weary of the other.

The girl in the other cell broke the silence. "Well, since we're doing the name game, my name's Julia," she said casually. I raised my eyebrows. IS SHE OK?... I wondered, not sure how to take her tone.

"Ex-excuse me?"

"Julia. Julia Bui," she said back. I sat there, thinking for a second. Julia Bui... I've heard that before...

"Julia..." I mumbled under my breath. "I know that from somewhere."

Laughing softly, she shuffled closer to the bars. "I guess I'm pretty famous, eh? I'll give you a guess," she said. I could hear her grin from the darkness. "October 14, 2010. College student girl climbs up the roof of a building to save a suicidal classmate. This year, March 13, the same girl was kidnapped from her home. It was investigated by the local police, but it went cold..." She stopped for a moment, as if thinking back to the same day.

Everything clicked. I remembered hearing it on the news.

I was about to say something, but then, I heard something next to me. "I was taken behind a library."

Surprised, I looked at him. Josh was still staring at the bars, knees tucked in, his posture looser. I wanted to say something reassuring, but I kept my mouth shut, knowing that saying anything might seem too optimistic.

I forced a scoff. "I was in the middle of a bank robbery when I was taken," I said, feigning a small smile.

Josh's eyes flicked over to me, shifting at his place. "Pretty crazy, huh?" he asked cautiously.

Laughing, I said, "Yeah, I guess you could say that." I saw his mouth tug into a tiny smile. After that, I knew that it would be ok.

Boy was I wrong.

 **(A/N): Hope this chapter isn't too bad. Reviews are always welcome!**


	6. Chapter 6

**(A/N): Hello there!**

 **Gah, I'm done with this. Life really doesn't agree with my schedule. Again, major apologies for getting this in so late! I expected this to be updated sooner, but life got in the way. Also, my muse ran away... again. But someone said I have a 'gift for writing', so it's back. But, if this person were to read my fanfics, that person... probably would have taken the claim back *winces*. Anyway, so sorry if the chapters are coming in really slowly, life's been hectic.**

 **Disclaimer: No, I don't own Criminal Minds… sigh…**

 _The Barn: Two Years Ago..._

Sam hasn't stopped.

Josh and Julia always came back from the shed with bloodied cuts, their eyes dulled, hands limp. They had no life in them; they had no spirit.

But I'd always come back struggling, trying to free me from his grasp, the pain only fueling my anger. I couldn't let Sam break me, I couldn't let him have the glory of defeating me. I couldn't let go without a fight, without trying to get back home. I had Henry and JJ to get back to, a family to return to.

But it only took me a month to realize how hopeless it is.

The fighting, the shouting, the talking, everything I tried to do to get Sam to stop has failed. The sympathy card, talking about my family, everything. He doesn't faze. And that's the scary thing. For the first time, when I was laying down in the damp cell with Josh, I realized my fate; this would be my undoing.

And really, there was nothing to stop it.

What was the point in fighting? There was nowhere to run, no way of calling anyone. Sam had a tight hand over us, slowly suffocating us to exhaustion. And it was working.

One night, Josh didn't return to from the shed. The cold was numbing my fingers. I felt my dried blood freeze onto my skin, the shivers becoming uncontrollable. I sat in the middle of the cell, the only blanket lying limp on my shoulders. Staring at the only clock in the room, I watched as the hand struck 2 o'clock; my eyes were locked on the hatch, ready for the two to come in. "He's not coming back, you know," Julia mumbled. I shifted my eyes to her. She laid on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

"And why's that?" I grumbled, not particularly in the mood for a conversation.

"The date, you idiot. What's the date?"

I scoffed unenthusiastically. "Oh, let me check my calendar over here and see," I said.

"Gosh, when have you become so hard headed?" Julia swung her legs over the bed. "Sam's been mumbling about it all week. 'It's gotta be perfect', and 'the twentieth is almost here'" I paused and thought. I could hear her eyes roll. She groaned. "I'm gonna die here with a moron, aren't I."

For a moment, the corners of my mouth twitched up before my eyes wandered back to watching the hatch, the shudders branching through my body as I willfully hoped for the return of Josh, remembering what Julia had said to me before. That today was the twentieth, Sam's day to kill.

 _Two Hours Later…_

It seemed like centuries before the hatch finally opened.

Sam stepped down first, one of his arms blocked by the ceiling, and in the other, a gun pointed toward the entrance. Slowly, he stepped forward, his eyes always at the blocked person he was guiding toward the steps. Finally, we saw him.

Immediately I knew it wasn't him. I saw the boy's tied hands trembling slightly, his panicking breath clearly audible. His eyes darted around the room, seemingly ignoring the steps below him.

I felt bile slip up my throat.

All I could imagine was Josh's unheard shouts, his ever so slight panic deep inside his scarred soul. I could see Sam dumping his body into the woods, bloodied and mangled for the world to see.

Or maybe the world wouldn't see. Maybe his body would never be found, and his family would never know what happened to their child. Their child who wasn't given the chance to even finish college, to get that job he wanted, to finish the poem he had started, to be home for one very last time.

Sorrow was immediately overflooded by anger. Did Sam even care? Did he care about Josh's future? His family? How could someone be so heartless to even want to take those things away from a young person who had so much potential?

I was hardly given another chance to comprehend it when the new boy was thrown into my cell. Sam locked the door, ignoring the glares I gave from the corner. Once he had left, I moved to ungag and untie the boy. He stiffened, alarmed, but I continued. Rubbing his bruised wrists, he looked warily at me as I sank back into my corner of the cell, my mind deep in thought.

"Wh-where am I?" he stammered, eyes wandering around the room.

"Your home for the next year," Julia mumbled. His head jerked to her direction, eyes widening. She put on a fake smile, opening her arms out wide. "Surprise," she said, immediately dropping her enthusiasm.

"Don't mind her," I grumbled. "She's sarcastic when she's angry." The boy stared at us, unsure of what to say next. I wanted to ask for his name, but stopped myself. Attaching myself to another victim was hardly ideal. Josh was gone too soon. And so would he.

 **(A/N): I know, this was a bit short... sorry about that. I hope this was ok. There was a bit of cringy writing, but I just want to sleep right now, so I'm hoping it wasn't too bad.**


	7. Chapter 7

(A/N): Me: New Year's Resolutions- stop getting addicted to Netflix and YouTube.

Reasonable Me: … Let's try to lower our standards.

Me: Well… start updating chapters on Fanfiction more daily?

Reasonable Me: (Throws up arms in exasperation) Come on, we're supposed to be looking at goals that you can actually achieve!

Isn't this a great start to the first chapter of the year?

Disclaimer: I'll own Criminal Minds when pigs fly. (Sees a pig flying). Well won't you look at that.

Present day- Markham Police Department...

"Last seen?" Hotch suggested.

"I have been searching for sightings, and he was last seen near a hiking a trail along the Appalachians on…" Penelope squinted at her screen, then looked up to the others. "December 20."

They all looked at each other. "The day that Oliver was missing?" Morgan asked. Garcia nodded, her busily fingers tapping on her keyboard.

Reid paused from his futile staring contest with the map."What about before that?"

Penelope typed for a bit, then stopped, scanning the screen. "There isn't much. Before then, it was a about a year ago."

"Garcia, pull up all of Caspar's recent sightings and wanderings," Hotch said, starting to get up. "We need inform the local police."

"What about reaching out to the media?" JJ asked.

"Again, would that be a good idea?" Morgan said skeptically. "You never know, this UNSUB can change his MO if he's threatened."

"But this particular date is important to him," Rossi interjected. "It marks the death of his son. Him going off schedule would ruin his whole routine, the structure of his life."

They all looked at Hotch. He hesitated for a moment, then said, "I think we need to keep this within the police. For all we know, he doesn't set a foot outside for most of the year. Letting the public know might do more harm than good." JJ nodded, and everyone headed out to tell the new findings.

Conference Room…

"Our UNSUB, or unidentified subject, is Samuel Caspar," Hotch began, looking over the police officers before him. They were being handed out pictures and documents, the shuffling chaos slowly dying out when Hotch started to speak. Beside him was the whole team.

JJ was standing to the side, gazing over the crowded room. Her eyes seemed distant for a moment, her mind in a distant memory from long ago before being pulled back into time by Hotch's voice.

Morgan was between them, leaning on a table, his arms crossed as he kept his attention on the speaker. He clenched his jaw, going over the case in his head, wondering what they missed that could lead them to Caspar.

Rossi stood on his other side, skimming through the reports in his hand. His mind was in two places: the case and Hotch. Even when he focused on the papers that he had, Rossi still had his ears open to the place surrounding him.

Callahan was over at the side. She stood against the wall, observing to organized chaos around her. She scanned the bustling hoard of officers before her, analyzing the crowd around her.

Reid continued to skim over the maps he brought over, but, even though he still wanted to look over his notes, he turned his attention to the officers and Hotch.

Penelope sat at one of the desks, her gaze turned from her computer screen to focus on what they were about to announce. Her hands itched to go back to the keyboard, knowing that she could find something with enough time.

Hotch looked around at his team, his confidence rising as he saw their concern and concentration. Clearing his throat, he began once more.

"He's fifty-three years old, white, and a widow, as well as a father to Connor Caspar."

"Connor was killed on December 20, 2008, which is why how we linked the date's importance to him," Morgan said.

"The victims are white, male, and in their college years," Callahan added in. "Other then that, there aren't any connections. This is because the UNSUB portrays his victims as his lost son."

"He's an organized killer," Reid said, looking up from his papers. "He leaves his victims along the trail along the Appalachians, covering them with a blanket, as if he felt remorse, or to convey the image that they are asleep."

"His whereabouts are unknown," JJ said. "Our UNSUB's last known sighting was on December 20, on a trail along the Appalachians. This was also the day that Oliver Harper went missing."

"The victims have no recent restraint marks, which could indicate Stockholm. Their past wounds have healed to some extent, and they all had permanent damage to the cilia, which is thought to be from close range gunshots," declared Rossi, who put down his documents. "There are also scarred tissue along the back, most likely from whip lashes."

A police officer raised his head from his papers. "Why does he keep the victims for a whole year? Why not kill them and then dump the body?" The officer received multiple glares from his superiors, but the team went on to explain.

"The UNSUB is a mission oriented killer," Hotch answered. "He's set for a specific goal and achieves it, and December 20 is part of it. It marks the date of his son's death. And because of most of the techniques he uses on his victims are connected fear rather than damage, we think that the UNSUB is trying to get the victims to be less afraid of death by making them face it."

There were quiet murmurs erupting through the crowd, but Callahan interrupted them. "Our UNSUB was with his son when he died. He was shot and killed at a gas station robbery. The last things Connor said to his father was…" she paused for a millisecond, "'I'm so scared.'"

There was a second of quiet among the officers. Reid cleared his throat, continuing, "The connections between the victims and Connor, as well as the date, makes it clear that these murders have to do with his son's death. He saw that his son died in fear, which could have given him a sense of responsibility to make sure no other boy like him feels the same way Connor did. This feeling could have been triggered by another life or death situation, or just by seeing a boy who looked like his son."

"This also explains his torture tactics," Rossi added in. "He shoots guns near them, uses a whip, all to try to get them closer to, as they say, death's door. He wants it so that, when they die, they won't feel fear."

JJ came out from the side. "Look out for reports of the UNSUB and any unsolved cases that had a similar MO. Contact us if you found anything."

"Keep your eye out. We'll be going out with a search party to investigate the Appalachian trails and the surrounding areas. Agent Reid has an area that would most likely be the UNSUB's hide out," Hotch informed them. He nodded. "Thank you."

The officers parted their ways, and Reid passed out maps that showed the area he believed would be where Caspar was. Detective Barrow approached Hotch. "I was just told that Oliver Harper's father arrived. They're in an interview room right now."

Hotch nodded. "I'll have someone talk to them, and maybe ask for a belonging for the search party. There's hope that they left a trail."

There was a slight pause, then the detective sighed. "I've never seen anything like this. It's unbelievable."

Hotch gave a small, reassuring smile. "I know. This is kind of my job," he said.

Barrow shook her head. "How do you do this?"

Hotch hesitated for a moment. "Well, it's a dark, dark world. Someone's gotta help give it light."

(A/N): I really should be sleeping, but I owe it to you guys this chapter. Reviews are welcome!


	8. Chapter 8

(A/N): Whaaaaaat? A second update in two days? *Gasp*!

This one's a short little scene that I really wanted to write. I'm supposed to be working, but fingers were itching to get this done, so I finished most of it in two sittings. Hope it's ok!

Disclaimer: Hahaha… yeah, I don't own Criminal Minds.

Penelope made her way to the team's meeting room, looking for someone willing to interview Oliver's father while the rest were bringing together a search party. Hotch asked her before she left the conference room, and she had just the person in mind. Winding through the busy station, she entered their seemingly empty room. She was going to check other rooms when she heard JJ speaking softly in the corner. "I don't understand…" she said into a phone. "What do you mean by-" She stopped for a moment, and Garcia could hear the voice on the other end of the line. "I know it's been three years, but-" The other person spoke again, and JJ leaned against the wall, her posture seeming more tired than before. "Ok," she replied softly, as though she didn't want to say those words. "I understand." JJ slowly put the phone away from her ear, hanging up. She stared at it for a second before letting her arm hang on the side. Collapsing onto a nearby seat, JJ leaned forward, resting her chin onto her hands. It took Garcia a moment to realize that her shoulders were shaking slightly.

The quiet cries coming from JJ buzzed into her ears. She silently made her way in front of JJ, sitting in the seat beside her. Garcia put a hand on her shoulders, and gently squeezed it. "Hey sweetie," she said faintly. JJ sniffed, opening up her hands so that they didn't cover her face, but didn't face Garcia. "What's wrong?" she asked, but she hardly needed to. She knew what was going on.

Because their team had to be assigned other cases, JJ couldn't help find her missing husband for more than a few months. There would be days when she called back with the teams that were assigned the case, but get no results. Those were the worse ones; she would hide in the bathroom and cry until someone came to get her, and coaxed her to come out. Most times Hotch offered for her to have a day leave, but she always refused.

She didn't know what to tell Henry. Every other day or so, he would ask her, "When's daddy gonna come home?" and all JJ could do was smile and say, "Soon. He's coming back soon," and kiss him on the forehead.

The trouble wasn't in convincing Henry; it was in convincing herself. But she still tried to tell herself that Will was going to come back home soon.

That was for the last three years.

She always fought through it though. She always said to herself, be strong for Henry. And she was. JJ would come in at work, and be fully focused. She saw the task at hand, and concentrated on it with all her power. Most of the time, the team couldn't tell that JJ still had a huge gap in her heart, which only widened when she saw Will's eyes in Henry's, or when she glanced at a picture of them at the beach. It killed her to know that her husband was missing somewhere out there in the world, and she didn't know where.

Yet, with every phone call she made to the assigned team, she was always able to control her emotions; she got back on her feet and went back to work.

But somehow, the look in her eyes was different. Garcia saw the one thing she'd never seen in JJ: defeat.

"Aw, sweetie. Come one, it's ok," Penelope tried to say reassuringly as she embraced JJ in a hug. "It's ok," she whispered again, rubbing JJ's back, trying to soothe her emotions.

Garcia felt JJ shake her head. She swallowed. "No," she said, choking out. "It's not." Her words got caught in her throat, and she sniffed, pulling away from her friend. Standing up shakingly, JJ sorely started to walk to the wall.

Penelope's eyebrows scrunched together. "What's wrong?"

JJ sniffed a bit, then gave a short, humorless laugh. "They quit," she said, a slightly exasperated sigh coming out. "They just…" She combed her hair back. "The case went too cold. They went through every lead a thousand times, at least twenty teams have tried but…" JJ paused, breathing in a shuddered breath. "It's been three years," she whispered, covering her mouth her hand, her eyes daring to cry. "It's been three years, Garcia, and I just…" Penelope didn't need to hear another word. She embraced JJ in another warm hug, and this time, Garcia knew she couldn't say anything to reassure her. So they just stayed there, JJ's wet cheek on Penelope's shoulder, her cries echoing through the room.

(A/N): Wow, the feels are coming in. What did you guys think? Criticism is welcome, anything to help improve my writing.


	9. Chapter 9

**(A/N): Well, here it is! I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far! Not much to say except that I was pretty busy the last couple of weeks but I had some free time this week to write this chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!**

 **Oh wait, just to let you know, the last two chapters had a mistake. They said Oliver Harper's 'parents', but in my outline, it said that he had a single father. It's not a big deal, but I had a little scene that I want in the story, and I don't want to have to change it in order to fit in a mother (sorry). I've changed it by now, but I hope this clears up any confusion.**

 **Disclaimer: I own Crimi-** _ **IT WAS A JOKE!**_ **It was a joke. Please… please don't hurt me.**

 _The Barn: Two Years Ago…_

It was only a few minutes of silence when the new boy started to speak.

"Hey," the boy said tentatively. "I'm Tyler." He looked expectantly at me, his blue eyes staring at me.

I just gazed out the bars, leaning against the wall, only sparing a glance at the boy. "Will." He stared at me harder from his little corner, his legs crossed and arms limp in his lap.

"Where… where are we?" he asked once again.

We heard Julia sigh again. Tyler turned his head sharply toward her direction. "I'm telling you, it's your home for the next year."

"I know but… ' _where'_ where are we?" Tyler repeated as he looked around, scanning for a new hint that we didn't see.

"A farm," I said. "In-"

"Hell," Julia interrupted intelligently.

"With disgusting food."

"And whips."

"And knives."

"Oh, and guns. Can't forget the guns."

Tyler's face paled, his gaze turning to the ground. I almost immediately regretted saying those things when I saw the look on his face. But was better than him finding out the hard way.

"How do we get out?" he said, breaking the silence. My eyebrow quirked, and I heard Julia laugh delusionally. Tyler looked between the two of us, his brows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

Through the dim lighting I saw Julia wipe a tear from her eye. "There's no getting out kid," she said, only to laugh delusionally once more.

"Have any of you tried?"

I would have rolled my eyes if I had the energy to. "I doubt we'd survive the first step outside."

"He's got a gun to you all the time," Julia said, "and when he doesn't, you're either in the cell or tied up."

"And even if we could get out, we're probably miles away from society," I mumbled. And with that, Tyler stopped asking.

 _Present day- Markham Police Department..._

Hotch walked toward the conference room. Detective Barrow informed him that Josh Wilder's parents arrived, shortly after Harper's. He told Callahan to meet and interview them, but Oliver Harper's father was still waiting in his room.

When he arrived at the room, Hotch opened the door slightly. His eyebrows furrowed when he heard a quiet sob coming from inside. Widening the door, he saw Penelope and JJ embraced in a hug. Garcia shook her head slightly, and he knew what happened. Hotch nodded grimly, and left them in the dark room, trying to shut the door as quietly as he could.

Walking down the hallway, he felt a slight tug in his heart. Hearing JJ's cries and seeing Garcia's lost eyes tore a hole in his soul. Hotch hated whenever a teammate was left vulnerable; their case always came first, but it seemed like someone always had to get hurt in the process. People's lives were at stake, and every hesitation, every pause made them closer to death. But their rush to solve the case left no time to mend broken wounds. Right now, Hotch had to focus on finding Oliver Harper in time. But he couldn't help but think back to JJ's cries in the meeting room. Her sorrow filled the air, and it had tried to reach him. But Hotch couldn't answer. He had a job to do. And other's lives always came first.

Hotch reached another meeting room filled with officers of a search unit, along with the rest of the team. They were crowded around a table where Reid was outlining the possible search grid they would be looking into. "... and the trail is narrow," Reid said. "Vehicles are prohibited in this area, and there was no disturbance along the trail, which means that the UNSUB walked all the way to the dump site, so he is most likely physically able to carry a body, or he used a vehicle for a non restricted area, and then walked to the site. Both of these options means that he can't be too far away." Hotch cleared his throat, and the whole room shifted their attention to him. He motioned to Rossi to follow him, and left the room.

Shutting the door behind him, Rossi followed Hotch out of the hallway and toward the room that Harper's parents were waiting in. "Oliver Harper's parents just arrived," he informed Rossi. "They're waiting in there," Hotch said, pointing to the room.

Rossi hesitated for a moment. "You know I'm never good at this stuff, right?"

"Well," Hotch said with a frown, "I don't think anyone really is, either. Not as good as JJ at least."

Looking around, Rossi asked, "Where is JJ? You usually get her to do these things."

"She…" Hotch paused, searching for the right words to say. "She's not up for it right now."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't ask but… I think it has to do with her husband's case."

Rossi's eyebrows furrowed. "Is she alright?"

Sighing, Hotch said, "We'll see." Nodding solemnly, Rossi turned to the door and opened it.

 _Steven Harper's Room…_

The room was silent, the only thing heard being Mr. Harper's shoes clicking along the floor as he walked aimlessly around the room. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He felt like he hadn't slept in days, which wasn't far from the truth. Ever since Oliver was reported missing Mr. Harper became agitated, unsure of how he could rest while his son was out there. His usually formal attire was a mess; his coat was carelessly draped on the chair, his button down wrinkled, ties loose and sleeves messily rolled up. But he could care less.

Mr. Harper was waiting for what seemed like life times before the door opened. He looked up to see a man come in, a small smile on his face. The man held out his hand, and Harper shook it. "Mr. Harper," the stranger started, "I'm Agent Rossi." When Harper didn't reply, Rossi simply continued. "Please, sit," he said, motioning to the table. Harper silently sat down, combing his already messy hair back with his hands. "If you don't mind," Rossi said, "I'd like to ask you some questions." Harper simply nodded.

"Mr. Harper, did you notice anything odd about your son's behavior before he went missing?" Rossi started.

Harper shook his head. "No, not that I know of." He paused. "We… Oliver and I don't really talk too much."

Rossi's eyebrows furrowed. "Why is that?"

"Well…" Harper sighed. "Ever since his mother left, he became more distant. He locked himself in his room and didn't speak to me. I've tried to reach out to him, but… Oliver never listened. At first I thought he was going through his teenage phase, but he never got out of it."

Nodding solemnly, Rossi said, "Losing a mother figure is always hard for children."

Harper rubbed his forehead, lost in his memories. "After he moved to Virginia, he never called back, and he hardly responded to my texts." He sighed, massaging his temples. "He stopped answering, and I…" Harper covered his eyes as tears started to fall. "I should have known," he said quietly.

"Mr. Harper," Rossi said reassuringly, "there's no way you could've known."

He shook his head. "Oliver's my son. He's my son, and… and I couldn't even tell if he'd gone missing or not." His shoulders started to shake, his sobs racking the room. And Rossi was at a lose of what to do; no one could mend a wound that deep.

 **(A/N): Not a lot of progression here, sorry. I was thinking about adding in something to move the story along, but I was pretty satisfied with this ending, and didn't want to 'ruin' it. I hope you guys liked it! Reviews and criticism is always welcome.**


	10. Chapter 10

**(A/N): Hey guys! I'm pretty busy, I'm so sorry that I haven't updated in awhile. I'm hoping that I'll get more writing done soon. Fingers crossed! (And toes… and eyes). Hope this is a good chapter.**

 **And also, this story hit 2,000 views! Exciting milestone!**

 **Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own Criminal Minds.**

 _Present day- Markham Police Department..._

Reid was outlining the perimeter of the search, going over the guidelines and instructions. Policemen were cramped into the room, scribbling down notes and trying to look over each others shoulders to see the map. Morgan was observing from the corner, jotting down things on a pad. A few minutes after he took Rossi away, Hotch came back into the room, sneaking through the officers and towards Reid. The search grid went out at a ten mile radius, and they were going to expand if nothing was found. Doubt had crept up on Reid when he saw how dense the woods were, but he knew that there were no nearby trails that a vehicle could access, making their radius a lot smaller. "We're going out at 8:00, and the search will go on till the sun starts setting, around 5:00," Hotch said. The officers whispered to each other. "I know that this might seem like too little time, but that's why we need you at your best. Keep your eyes searching, and your ears open. An agent will be assigned to each of your teams. If you see anything, go to them. Now, get some rest." The police officers started to shuffle out. "It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

Kate started to walk into the room, dodging around the officers before arriving at the table. She gazed at the map before saying, "So I talked to the Wilders." She looked up. "Nothing unusual, no strange contacts with any strangers. I asked whether or not their son felt like he was being watched or followed, but they said that they didn't hear anything."

"Which means that they're either terrible parents or our UNSUB is good at his job," Morgan mumbled.

"Well, I asked the two other families whether or not they've seen our UNSUB, they said 'no' as well."

"Then he would have to had blended in enough to be unnoticed, or hid where no one could see him," Hotch said.

Reid said, "He's invisible. Our UNSUB disappeared, and has only been spotted along the trails. There's gotta be a way that he's spying on his victims without being noticed."

Suddenly, Penelope cracked open the door, sticking her head inside with a sly smile. "Garcia," Hotch said, "what are you doing here? Where's JJ?"

Callaghan's head shot up. "Wait, what happened?"

Penelope simply ignored her and explained, "She's still in the room. I'm just giving her some space. I was gonna get some water for her when I overheard your conversation, and I was worried about JJ, but-"

"Baby girl, come one," Morgan interrupted. He raised his eyebrows and Penelope pursed her lips.

"Right, yes, the point. So I did a bit of digging after the meeting a few minutes ago, and I realized that none of the abduction sites had any cameras."

"Wait, what?" Reid asked, intrigued.

"Well," Penelope continued, "we never got footage of the abductions. When I was looking into Josh's case, I thought that it was just plain luck that the abduction was never seen in the lot of the library, but it happened again with Nathan. They were both caught on camera exiting the library, but they never made it to the other cameras."

"What about the other two?" Hotch asked.

"Tyler Nelson's car was found in a vacant parking lot, and Oliver Harper was taken at a restroom stop along a trail. His friends said that he never came out."

"And both of those spots didn't have a camera?" Penelope nodded. "Ok, thanks Garcia," Hotch said. Penelope slid out of the room, leaving the rest of the team alone. Turning back to the group, Hotch said, "Get some rest. We'll meet here at 6:30." The team departed, shuffling around the room to get their files and maps. They flowed out to the hallway, going their way to the hotel.

 _Search Party- 8:30 am_

The sun was starting to rise. Morgan could finally bask in the beams of the light as he walked through the small trail, observing every scratch in every tree, and every rock on every trail. In his group, the officers searched through the woods, staying in their perimeter. He could hear the quiet shuffle of branches, brushing against an officer's jacket, and small chirps from the morning birds, waking from their sleep. But his eyes were purely focused on the search.

They combed the area for what seemed like hours. Morgan's fingers felt like they were frozen, even with his gloves on. He could barely feel his toes, and the peaceful scenery was hardly calming anymore. It was driving him mad. Derek's eyes searched every nook and cranny, every bush, every tree, but still they were there. And their search seemed to be going nowhere.

It was after their lunch break when someone shouted, "I've got something!" Knowing that that voice was close by and in his group, he raced ahead to see a young officer crouching at a bush, holding a dirty jacket in his hands.

Morgan got out his gloves, saying, "What is it?" Crouching down, Derek held out his hand and the officer gave the jacket to him. He saw small blood stains along the sleeves and cuffs, and his hands ran through the tears on the back. Then, the officer gave him a note.

"This was in the pocket." The paper was wrinkled; its corners were worn down, splotches of stains and water blurring out the typed words. Morgan's eyes flew to the beginning. Dear… _What is that?_ Ju… He couldn't make out the rest. But it put a smile on his face nonetheless.

"Good eyes, kid," he said, facing the young officer. "What's your name?"

"Jordan Crowski, sir."

"I'll put a word out for you, Crowski. You did good work here."

"Thank you sir." Patting the officer on the back, Derek grinned, pulling out his phone as he walked down the trail. "Hey Hotch," he said, "I've got something to make your day."

 _Markham Police Department..._

"This is the genie of the dark web, how may I be of assistance?" Penelope quipped, leaning back in her chair as she fiddled with her pen.

"Hey baby girl, I need something." Garcia grinned.

"It depends on what that something is, hot stuff."

"Hey hey now, behave. We found something on the trail.

Penelope huffed. "You're no fun. Fine, whatcha got?"

She heard a bit of rustling from the background before Derek said, "I'm gonna be sending you a picture of a paper that we found. It looks like… an acceptance letter of some sort. The name's a bit blurred out, but it should be clear enough for you to get. I need to get a face from that name, can you work some of that magic for me?"

"Yes sir!" she said, saluting mockingly.

"Thanks beautiful, you're the best." A few seconds after Derek hung up, Garcia got a message on her computer. Squinting, she saw that the ink was slightly smudged, but after a bit of enhancement, name was clear enough to read. "Now what do you have to offer, Julia Bui?"

 **(A/N): "Enhance… enhance… now we can see the words, even though it's impossible to do that!" Reviews are appreciated!**


	11. Chapter 11

**(A/N): Hey, guys, I'm so sorry about the late update. I hope this is alright, my muse sort of ran off again, but hey, writer's block is my default mode, amiright?**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.**

 _Markham Police Department..._

"Julia Bui was a sophomore student at Stanford going toward a degree in environmental science." Garcia sent out a picture of young woman, sitting poised for the photo with her hair pulled back into a messy braid. Her face was decorated with dimples, one larger than the other, and glistening eyes, looking straight at the camera. She resembled innocence while still managing a closed smile, one that taunted the lenses to come closer. "She liked to party, but her parents claimed that Julia always made it back sober. Clean record, didn't cause too much trouble or attention until October 14, 2010. One of her classmates, Neal Bryson, was seen on top of a roof, ready to jump. Julia was able to climb up and talk him down. Two years later, she was reported missing."

"Until she was found a year after her disappearance by a group of hikers," Morgan added through the phone, scouring through a bushel along the trail.

There was a mumbling through the line, a newfound curiosity in the air. "Hysterical, Julia wasn't able to communicate correctly, and was yammering on about being captured, but nobody has been able to understand what she was trying to say. She was kept in a psychiatric hospital, but now she's staying with her family in Oregon. The police have tried to investigate further, but the case went cold."

Morgan saw JJ ahead of the trail, foraging through a dead bush while speaking into the phone. "I don't understand, what does this have to do with the case?" she asked, her voice sore from the cold.

"I know it's a stretch, but you should see how scary high that building is," Penelope said, scrolling through photos. "Could it be possible that our UNSUB is also targeting people who have put their life at risk willingly?"

"But that doesn't account for the race and gender cross. These victims are supposed to be surrogates for his son, so why would he go out of his victimology?" Kate asked. She stopped walking and combed through her hair with her hand, unsure of what to make of the news. It seemed as though the more they found, the more questions that were unburied.

They heard Garcia smile over the phone. "I'm way ahead of you, kitties. When his wife died, Sam Caspar's sister, Camille, came in to help raise Connor. Sam was said to be distant and buried in work and alcohol."

"The UNSUB might have felt responsible for being an absent father figure." There was a rustling over the phone, then a sigh. "He could still feel insecure about his role toward his victims. Maybe after the first victim was having a hard time cooperating, he wanted a more reassuring role model, one that had put her life in danger."

Reid came in from behind Morgan. "The UNSUB felt as though Julia saving her classmate meant that she had a dampened fear of death," they heard him mumble, shuffling through files.

"Julia's jacket was found near the dump site. That, and her saving a classmate, risking her life for another… that can't just be a coincidence," Hotch said. "JJ, Morgan, go to Julia, see if there's any way to get some information. Kate, get a hold of Caspar's sister, ask her about Sam and Connor's condition at home."

"Got it boss."

"Yes sir."

"Alright everybody, it's getting dark. It's time to get back," Hotch ordered. There was a mumble of agreement as everybody shuffled back the way they came. A chilling breeze went past Hotch, singing through the branches of sleeping trees. He pulled his jacket closer to him, staring into the void in the vast forest, unable to comprehend the vast amount of land there was around him, untainted by humans' hands. Hotch stayed there for a second, straining his ears to try to hear something, just something, but he was surrounded by silence, interrupted only by the lulling chirps of crickets, and a distant owl calling into the night. There was an endless amount of woods, a sea of wilderness and creatures, and the team was looking for one single thing. The impossibility was overwhelming as Hotch slumped back to the SUV, and somehow, he had to bring hope into the darkness.

 _Bui household- Five hours later…_

A thundering of footsteps ran down the stairs. Julia arrived at the kitchen in a ball of frenzy while her parents were at the breakfast table. Her father was reading the latest _TIME_ magazine with a bowl of oatmeal, profoundly intrigued by the latest study of heart surgery with his jacket draped around the chair and tie straightened, snug around his neck. Her mother was at the kitchen washing strawberries, still in her pajamas with a bird nest on her head, little to be recognized as the clean cut real estate agent she'll transform into when she steps out the door. Through the deafening silence of the house, Julia came in, snatching a bagel from the fridge as her mother tsked at the dirty flannel flung on her shoulders.

"Sweety, when was the last time you sat down for breakfast," her mom asked, hardly looking up as she composedly cut her strawberries. Julia brushed past her, only mumbling something with a bagel in her mouth. Without a second glance, she walked to the front door with her dog trotting behind her. Julia closed the door, and the dog whined. A sigh came from the kitchen as her father flipped the magazine to the next page. "She'll be back any second no-" He was interrupted by door opening and the little mutt yapping happily at it's owner's return. "The keys are on the table…" Looking up, he saw a man and a women standing next to his daughter.

"Susan and Kevin Bui?" the man asked. Julia's father, Kevin, stood up. He looked to his daughter for an answer for the intrusion.

Julia bit her nails with a shrug. "They're FBI," she mumbled.

Morgan and JJ held out their credentials. "We'd like to talk to Julia about what happened to her when she was missing two years ago," JJ said as she saw the parent's usure looks. Julia, who was headed back to the door, looked at them when she heard her name.

"I don't understand," Susan said slowly, "Julia already told the police everything she knew."

"We're sorry, but we think that there's a connection between her missing year and a new case," Morgan explained. "We just need to ask a few questions to find out what happened."

The two parents looked at each other warily. It had been more than two years ago when their daughter had come back to them, but it was only a few months ago when they felt like Julia had truly returned. They feared that opening this up again, even for a little while, could mean losing their little girl again. Kevin sighed in defeat. Looking at Julia, he said, "It's your decision honey. You don't have to if you don't want to."

Julia spent a few seconds biting her nails, eyeing at her parents, then the agents. With everyone staring at her, she nodded. Susan led them to the living room. As they walked to the couches, she came from behind Julia, gently putting a hand on her shoulder. As if being snapped out of a daze, Julia sharply glanced behind her shoulder with a second of fleeting fear in her eyes before realizing that it was her mom. She scurried to a couch facing toward the agents. JJ smiled to the parents, asking to be alone with Julia. After having the living room by themselves, they started. "I know that this is hard," JJ said slowly, "but I want you to tell us everything, starting from when you went missing."

Julia hesitated before going back, back before she was kidnapped, back three years ago.

 **(A/N): I know that this is a bit of a weird place to stop, but I really wanted to get a chapter in today. I've been trying a bit of a new writing 'style' with a bit more descriptions. Reviews and criticism are welcome!**


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